The Bastard’s Betrayal by Katee Robert

Chapter 2

Rose’s sisters descended and she got ready. She chose her clothing carefully, just like she always did when meeting…Jackson. As far as he knew, she was just a woman who worked an office job she didn’t love, had a big family, and liked roses.

Rose would never be able to look at her namesake again after this.

She slammed her hair dryer down harder than she intended. He knew. That bastard knew who she was this whole time, and he played her for a fool. She had too much anger, her mother’s anger that flared hot and scalding, but she didn’t bother to control it. Not this time. Not when it would serve her so well.

Lorelei lifted her brows, meeting Rose’s gaze in the mirror. “What did that hair dryer ever do to you?”

Anya tossed her lean body onto Rose’s bed, sprawling the way she always seemed to. “She’s pissed because Mama and Papa are making her break up with the bartender.” The way she said bartender was loaded with loathing. Anya had strong opinions about Rose “slumming it with the normies.”

Lorelei’s brows winged higher. “That was fast.”

“It’s been months. That’s not fast at all.” Sasha reached around Rose to grab a tube of mascara. “This is mine, by the way.”

Lorelei snorted. “Actually, it’s mine. You borrowed it from me last week, remember?”

“I returned that one.” Sasha waved the tube. “I bought this yesterday.”

“Liar.”

“Selfish hag.”

“Bitch.”

“Take it.” Rose studied her sisters in the mirror, letting their chaotic squabbling ground her. They threw insults with a fondness that belied the words themselves. This was her life. This was normal. She never should have tried to go against it, even in temporary rebellion. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. It would be okay. Rose would fix things and she would be the only one to pay for the consequences of her actions.

She pulled on a cheap floral dress she’d bought from a box store. The woman in the mirror hardly looked like her. It was only now, when the whole charade had fallen down around her head that she had to admit the fucked-up lengths she’d gone to in keeping it afloat. She didn’t look like Rose Romanov. She looked like just another brunette who walked the streets of New York every day of her life, barely getting by, and yet the only thing she really had to stress about was the shitty dating pool.

That woman didn’t have her entire family relying on her to make the smart call, to sacrifice in order to provide for them for the next generation.

That woman was silly and foolish and a little vapid.

That woman was in love with a man who didn’t exist.

What a fucking waste.

“Rose?” From the tone of Sasha’s voice, this wasn’t the first time she’d said her sister’s name.

Rose tried for a smile. “Sorry. I was thinking of something else. What did you say?”

“Are you okay?” Sasha sat next to Lorelei. They were three years apart, but they could almost have been twins when they were next to each other. Both were pretty and curvy and totally at ease in their skins. The only real difference was that the sweetness of their expression was genuine on Sasha’s face and a carefully curated mask on Lorelei’s. Their youngest sister preferred people to underestimate her.

Sasha kept going. “I know you liked him, but don’t you think our parents are right? Can you really imagine him here with us? As part of the family?”

No, Rose never could, but that was part of the attraction to Jackson in the first place. He was different than the other people she spent time with. He liked her for her, not because of her proximity to power. Part of her had always known their time was limited, even as their relationship progressed from date nights to her leaving a few things at his place. If Jackson knew what was required of her, what lengths she would descend to, he’d run screaming into the night.

Except that man wasn’t Jackson at all.

She had a feeling Dante Verducci knew exactly what was required of a mafia family heir.

The anger she’d barely kept simmering beneath the surface threatened to explode. Not yet. She couldn’t let it leak out yet. If her sisters knew something was going on, they would insist on going with her. They’d fight, and then Anya would shadow her steps anyway. Even now, Anya watched her with narrowed eyes. She braided her long blond hair back from her face, leaving her sharp features on display. If Anya knew what was going on, she’d insist on tagging along, and Rose had to handle this herself.

Her only option was to lie to them. “I’m just a little sad. That’s all. He was a nice guy.” He was a fucking liar.

Anya rolled onto her side and propped her head up on her hand. She was wearing her customary slacks, button-down, and suspenders. All tailored within an inch of their lives, of course. Her sister might favor menswear, but she made it her own just like she did everything else in her life. Her style really was impeccable. Anya frowned. “You’re acting weird. I’m coming with.”

“No.” She managed to keep the word calm and even. “I’ve handled worse than breaking some poor guy’s heart. I’ve got this.”

Sasha nibbled at her fingernails. “We’ll go out afterward. Get your mind off things.”

She wanted to say no, but honestly what would it hurt? Her life had become so complicated in the past two hours. Letting off a little steam might be exactly what she needed once this was all done. “Sure. I just need to come back here and get ready.”

It took another hour to herd her sisters out of her room and head down to the garage. Vasily was waiting for her. They looked like so many of her parents’ people—like they could punch their way through a wall and the wall would give before they would. They were the Romanovs’ best tech person, and they favored shotguns in combat, which was why Rose didn’t take them along often if she needed to keep things quiet. They also loved sushi and playing checkers, and she and Vasily had shared more than a few meals over games when they were teenagers and involved in the business enough to know what was going on but not old enough to actually participate.

She gave them a long look. “You tattled.”

“All my reports go through Alexei. He passed it on.” They shrugged. “You’re being reckless.”

“That’s my decision to make.”

Vasily shook their head slowly. “You know better.” They refrained from lecturing her, which was just as well.

She did know. She didn’t even have an excuse for this. Rose wasn’t one who railed against her fate. Her parents were indulgent, but they’d also raised her to know exactly what was expected of her, and she thrived beneath those expectations. She looked forward to the day when she ruled the family. She’d even made her peace with her marriage being political instead of a love match.

There was no room in any of that for some civilian guy who would be a liability across the board if their relationship ever got serious. Even if Jackson were a real person, eventually she’d have to choose between telling him the truth or lying to him for the rest of their relationship. He wasn’t equipped to exist within the lifestyle. Either he’d hamstring her, or he’d get himself shot by an enemy because he didn’t take the threat seriously.

Except Jackson wasn’t a real guy.

“I take it you’re my babysitter tonight.”

Instead of answering, Vasily strode to the SUV and pulled open the back door. When it was just the two of them, she didn’t like riding in the back because it brought attention to her status. She bit back a sigh and climbed into the vehicle. It didn’t matter now if they chauffeured her around. After tonight, there would be no one to ask questions about it.

Vasily knew her well enough to not attempt conversation as they drove to Jackson’s shitty apartment. They simply parked a few blocks over and looked at her. “You have your piece.”

“Of course.” She pulled her cross-body purse over her head and patted it. It wasn’t huge, but it was more than enough room for her little handgun. She usually had more creative ways of carrying, but if she showed up dressed as Rose Romanov, he would immediately know something was wrong. The only way she’d pull this off was to catch him unawares. That meant not giving away that she knew the truth. “I won’t be long.”

“Call when you’re finished. There’s a team nearby who will handle cleanup.”

Being the princess had its perks, though she doubted most people would consider not having to personally deal with body removal a perk. Those people had never tried to fit a two-hundred-pound man into the truck of a sedan before. “Will do.”

“Rose.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know you’re not about to tell me to be careful.”

“He’s dangerous. Be careful.” They said it without a hint of irony.

“I’m dangerous, too.” She climbed out of the SUV before they could badger her some more. Vasily knew what she was capable of, but everyone got a little skittish when the heir put herself in danger. A small irritation in the grand scheme of things, but an irritation, nonetheless.

It was so hot, she could almost see the waves of it coming off the pavement. Within two blocks, her skin sported a fine sheen of sweat, and she wished she’d taken the time to braid her hair back from her face. The long, dark locks were a vanity of hers, but they sure as fuck were inconvenient at times.

She took the stairs up to Jackson’s—Dante’s—apartment. The main door’s lock was broken and had been since she met him. She’d joked about the security risk, but either he’d never reported it, or the super didn’t care enough to fix it. It didn’t matter now, not when it worked to her advantage.

Rose took a deep breath, paused to make sure her purse was open and the gun within easy reach, and knocked on the door. It was only then that she realized she hadn’t texted or called before showing up. It was too late to alter course now. If Jackson—damn it, Dante—wasn’t home, she’d just break in and wait for him to return.

A shuffling on the other side of the door had her holding her breath. It opened a moment later to reveal the man himself. His blond hair was mussed like he’d been sleeping. For a moment, longing swept over her, so strong it felt like the tide pulling at her legs, demanding she go to him like she always did when she walked through his door. She’d just seen him last night, but she missed him.

A lie.

It was all a fucking lie.

His dark eyes went wide at the sight of her. “Rose. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” She managed a sweet smile even though it felt like her heart was shredding. Fury and pain and heartache twisted and whirled inside her, the mix so toxic, she felt sick to her stomach. None of it showed in her voice. “Sorry I didn’t call. I was in the neighborhood and, well…I got a little impulsive.”

“Well, I’m not going to turn down some time with my girl.” He stepped back and opened the door wide.

My girl.

You fucking bastard.

She barely managed to keep her smile in place as she moved into the apartment. It looked the same as the last time she’d spent the night. Ratty secondhand furniture that she’d found ridiculously charming. A massive television and gaming setup. The kitchen was falling apart but clean. The entire place was clean. She’d liked that a lot about him, that he took good care of his things, even if they weren’t necessarily valuable to anyone else. She’d liked that he taken care of her, too.

Her chest gave another sickening lurch, but she shut it down. Or she tried. Everywhere she looked, there was evidence of their time together. The container of coffee she kept here because he only drank the cheap stuff. The secondhand romance novel she’d picked up on one of their afternoon dates and had been slowing reading through when she spent time with him. The throw blanket he’d surprised her with one day because she always complained of being cold when she stayed over.

How could she have missed the truth?

Rose shook her head. She’d have years to obsess over how things had gone so wrong. Right now, she had to focus. She had to see this through.

Jackson shut the door and pulled her into his arms, so quickly, she barely managed not to tense. He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” she murmured. Their normal greeting. No matter how many stolen hours they managed, it was never enough. Rose searched his handsome features, looking for the man beneath. His facade was flawless. No one would fault her for being fooled…no one but herself. Even knowing the truth, it felt far too good to have his arms around her.

She stepped back. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?”

“It’s noon.”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.” She made herself laugh, hated how carefree it sounded. “Come on, bartender. I know you have something up your sleeve.”

“For you? Always.” He released her and headed to the kitchen.

She slipped her hand into her purse the moment his back was turned. He moved easily, grabbing three bottles and a glass. How had she never thought to question that he kept top-shelf liquor? Rose had just considered it a quirk of his trade, that he’d developed good taste from working behind the bar. She should have questioned it. She should have questioned a lot of things.

“You having a rough day?”

She pulled the gun from her purse and thumbed the safety off. She’d already screwed the silencer on before arriving. Not that the people in this neighborhood would think too hard about strange sounds, but she didn’t need someone getting nosy. Enough had already gone wrong. The cherry on top would be some cops deciding to sniff around. “Something like that.”

He picked up the shaker and gave it a good shake. The move had the muscles lining his back standing out. Another thing she hadn’t questioned: how a bartender who worked full time and spent the rest of his free hours with her had a body like that. And then there were the scars, courtesy of an adventurous childhood, he’d claimed.

She was a fool.

“Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?” She didn’t mean to speak, but the words were out before she could call them back. Closure. She just needed some fucking closure. Then she could finish this.

“What are you talking about, babe?”

“I think you know, Jackson.” She sucked in a breath, her finger caressing the trigger. Now was the time to pull it, to end this, but she wanted to see his face, to have him admit what he’d done.“Or should I say Dante?”

She expected him to tense. To deny. Something.

All he did was turn around and lean against the counter, the shaker still in his hands. She stared into his face, so she saw the exact moment the mask fell away. The happy look in his dark eyes bled away, leaving only an empty coldness that had her fighting back a shiver. “So.” Even his voice changed, the easy cadence disappearing, replaced by yet more emptiness. “You figured it out.”

“Dante Verducci.” The name felt strange on her tongue. Wrong. “I don’t know what you were trying to accomplish, but it ends now.”

His gaze flicked to the gun in her hands. “You really think you’re going to shoot me? You were coming around my cock twenty-four hours ago.”

Fury nearly made her black out. Maybe she wouldn’t regret this after all. He was so fucking sure of her, of this situation, as if the gun in her hand didn’t mean a single damn thing. She’d prove him wrong. Rose steadied her stance, reaching for the one thing she could that would hurt him a fraction of as much as he’d hurt her. “I faked it.”

She pulled the trigger.

Dante moved at last moment, and the bullet took him in the shoulder instead of the middle of the chest. She cursed and spun, following his movement, and pulling the trigger again. Another circle of red blossomed on his gray T-shirt, but then he crashed through the front door and disappeared into the fall.

“Fuck!”

Rose kept her gun up in case he came back, and she fished her phone out of her purse. “Vasily! He’s on the run!”

They didn’t give her shit for fucking this up, too. They just cursed. “I’m on it.”

“I’m following—”

“Nyet. Put the gun away, collect anything from the apartment that would incriminate you, and leave the same way you came in. Take the subway a few stops and call a pickup. We’ll handle this.”

She wanted to argue, but they were right. She couldn’t chase down a bleeding man with a gun in her hands. It would do more than raise eyebrows, and they had enough trouble already. “Okay.”

“Watch your back, Rose.” They hung up.

She cursed and took a second to smooth back her hair and get her game face on. Two minutes later, she had a small bag full of any evidence of her existence at his place. Rose calmly stepped over the blood trail and through the door, pausing to shut it behind her. The blood led to the right, heading toward the emergency exit, but she made herself go left and leave the way she’d come.

Damn it, she’d fucked this up, and badly. What was it about this man that had her missing a step for the first time in her life? She should have shot him in the back, instead she let him get under her skin, and then she missed twice. Oh, not a full miss, but if he could run, she hadn’t done her job properly.

She barely registered her phone buzzing in her hand and answered without looking. “Da?”

“This isn’t over.”

She stopped short. Dante. The gall of him to call her while on the run for his life. She might be impressed if she could breathe through her fury. If the sound of his voice didn’t make her ache with the loss of a relationship that was never real to begin with. “You’re right. It’s not over until you’re dead. Come down to the street, and we’ll talk about it.”

His laugh was raspy and strange. “Rain check. I’ve got a pair of Russians on my tail.”

“I don’t know what you’re running for. They just want to talk, baby. You love to talk.” She should hang up. Nothing good came from this phone call, and Vasily was too good to let Dante get away. This would be over shortly.

I’m just distracting him.

“It’s not over,” he repeated.

Frustration bloomed and she picked up her pace. “Wrong. This was fun while it lasted, but in a few months, you’re going to be rotting in some unmarked grave, and I’ll be walking down the aisle to say ‘I do’ to Romeo Capparelli. It’s over.”

Dante was silent except for his rasping breathing. She’d hurt him, and badly. Nearly as badly as he’d hurt her. “You’ll marry him over my dead fucking body.”

“That’s the plan.”

“We’re not done, Rose Romanov. I’ll be seeing you. Soon.” He hung up before she recovered from her shock.

She still hadn’t recovered after taking the subway and calling for a pickup. The audacity of that motherfucker to say they weren’t done. She shot him. Any normal person would take that as a clear sign that things were over. If he—

She shook her head hard. No. She would not do this to herself. Everything from the last few months between them was a lie, and she would not allow him to worm around inside her head just because her heart was too foolish to know better.

Rose’s phone vibrated in her hand, and she most certainly didn’t feel a beat of disappointment when she saw it was Vasily calling. “Da?”

“We lost him.”